


What We Call Love

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Retelling, Slow Burn, Viktuuri Big Bang 2017, basically an insight into what they really felt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-07 19:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11630115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Viktor was an isolated celebrity, surrounded by his fans by day and his loneliness by night. Yuuri was a mental wreck, scarred by his past failures and current status as one. When they met, the two of them were unsure as to what to call this foreign feeling at first. But soon, they would realize what they really felt for each other.A retelling of Yuuri and Viktor's story in a different way, with an insight into both of their emotions and unsaid thoughts about each other and their blossoming relationship as coach and pupil into lover and lover.





	1. Surprises

**Author's Note:**

> @skeletalsenpai and @anhsan's final project for YOIBB17. Yes I just used third person. No I don't care.
> 
> Please enjoy this work as both of us really did work our arses off to make this possible. Thank you to @skeletalsenpai's artwork for inspiring this fic and thanks to myself for actually getting past my procrastination in order to get this done *pats me self on the back*.
> 
> Kudos~

_Daffodils often signal rebirth, and perhaps even a new beginning to come._

**—X—**

 Viktor likes surprises. Life is full of too much shit to be bored at the same time. Being bored was like going in circles when you were trying to get to the end.

 That was the point. There was no end. Just like there’s no end to boredom.

 So in search of something to do with this miserable lifetime he occupied, looking for someone to share his bed with was the best answer he had. Sure, all the people he’d ever been with had wanted nothing more than to bang the celebrity—who wouldn’t? It was hard not to say he was attractive. Strangers became nothing more than toys to play around with for awhile, before that also became boring. Fuck and run, that’s what he called it.

 At the last GPF competition Viktor competed in, it was also the same thing. He won, someone else he happened to know well came in second, and a newcomer from another country would snatch bronze. As he far as he knew the annual GPF would always turn out the same way. The flowers being thrown at you right in the face by the crowd as they screeched at you from above, which was followed by an after party put up by some rich conservative business sponsor in his sixties in the banquet hall. Photographers would dance around trying to capture the blond’s platinum blond hair but keep mistaking it for silver, or even worse gray. Afterwards would be his favourite time—when the champagne they repeatedly served would get to him and make some part of the night fun, then the whole process of fuck and run would repeat once more.

 But no, not this time. This time wasn’t the same thing anymore.

 Because this time turned out to be a half-nude 5’8 severely intoxicated Japanese skater who happened to challenge _the_ Yuri Plisetsky to a drunk dance battle and get away with it.

 Viktor liked surprises, and boy, was this was fucking _euphoric_.

 He can still remember that grinding on his own hips, how forceful this man’s arms were when they pushed him back towards the hotel room that he was staying in for the night. For a few minutes the other was in complete control before Viktor wanted more, swinging them around and pinning him against the elegantly-painted wall. No checking if it was thin, though, since neither of them were in the mood for it.

 They were together, entwined with each other for their own selfish reasons and touching each other to no end. This was what Viktor Nikiforov called a surprise. That and the fact that this man could’ve gone on kissing him for god knew how long.

 And in that eternity he felt, eternity turned to nothing. This man, who had practically introduced himself via a grinding session, turned into nothing. He boarded his plane without looking back when Viktor asked him something about a photo.

 Sometimes he hated himself, for a lot of reasons he supposed, but for this one especially.

 The process of ‘fuck and run’ ceased to occur again, due to the fact that Viktor had forced himself behind his own doors to sulk for hours until his dog Makkachin went to bother him. Look at that, five-time GPF champion Viktor Nikiforov had an actual beating heart and fell head over heels in love with a skater that came in dead last. How much someone loathing could someone feel for themselves?

 He never forgot, though, how much he loved himself for finding that video a few children posted onto the Internet of the same intoxicated skater he met. Only now he was completely sober, performing the same exact routine Viktor did for his last GPF, and sporting a bit of chubby muscle at the edges. Viktor wanted to open a window and release his most obnoxious scream out of it so the entire city of St. Petersburg knew just how joyous he was in that moment. He had just found the one person he’d fallen for over the Internet in a :53 second video and loved himself so, so much for it

 Because Viktor liked surprises, and god, he only wanted this surprise to last.

 Oh, and look at that. The next plane for Japan left in five hours.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Formal Introductions

_ Carnations have their positives, but fear ones of yellow for rejection is inevitable. _

**—X—**

Chris never answers his texts, which is among the several good reasons of why Viktor has a right to murder him cold. Ask him to wake up at five AM to pick him up at the airport, he forgets to even set an alarm and goes to the opposite gate of where he’s supposed to get Viktor.

His phone buzzes lightly against his side again for the seventh time, and he swipes down to refresh the page before seeing what Chris has responded.

_Gate...4G?_

_ Gate 4B, know-it-all. _

_Aw, look at little smart-ass over here, getting whiny because it’s too hot for his Russian body. Cut me some slack already—I’m on my vacation here in Japan and you force me to pick you up._

_Says the guy who needs to wear his glasses more often because the paper I gave you clearly said 4B. But I bet this Russian body could wear them better than you could, anyway._

He snorted, having just spotted Chris at the automatic doors in front of him a second after pressing  _ Send.  _ A ring caught his ears, and to his amusement his best friend opened up his phone, giving him quite the dirty gesture with his fingers after he had looked down to read the message.

“Fuck you too.”

“I love you too.”

The Swiss skater put his arm over Viktor’s head to rest, leaning on him for support before straightening up to ask him something.

“So, did the almighty legendary Nikiforov get his beauty sleep during his five hour plane delay?” he asks with that annoying grin of his, one Viktor can’t help but grin back at him as well. Since he’s only brought a few pieces of luggage along, it barely takes ten minutes to put everything in the back of Chris’s car and finally get seatbelted.

 His boyfriend is snoring softly at the front, his head leaning more towards right with his phone lying in the crack of his thighs. Chris gets into the driver’s seat, but not before sneaking in one quick look at his sleeping lover and chuckling to himself.

 “We thought we were sleeping in until I received your text. Now I feel horrible for waking him up without warning and taking him with me in such a rush.”

 “Mm. At least he sleeps more quietly than you do.”

 He puts one of his hands on his chest, feigning insult while gasping absurdly enough to make his boyfriend stir.

 “How dare you?”

 “It’s true, don’t deny it! Last time I went to your place I could hear you through two walls, among  _ other _ things that is,” Viktor says.

 “Eavesdropper, aren’t you? So, about the question I asked. How was the delay, anyway?”

 An unexpected period of silence, surprising but also not since Viktor had a tiny tendency to zone out and look completely serious while doing so.

 Of course Chris knew why, though. He hadn’t seen his best mate zone out this much since the banquet a couple of months ago, which also had happened to be when Yuuri Katsuki, the intoxicated half-nude skater, strip-poled his way into Viktor’s life.

 He inhaled deeply, sighing even though the platinum blond seemed oblivious to it.

 “I don’t want to rush you into talking about anything. I also don’t want to force you to spit it out either, but it’s absolutely useless to sulk when you’re twenty-five minutes away from Hasetsu Ice Castle and from Yuuri. Vik, come on. You’re not being cooperative at the moment.”

 Viktor managed to mumble a small _ fine _ , shifting a bit in the back seat to face Chris.

 “Chris, it’s this entire thing. It’s already bad enough that I ended up having feelings for someone I don’t think I even deserve, but Yakov’s already recruiting Yuri to track me down from what I’ve heard and from the way he acted when I left him for Japan, he’s hellbent on doing so.”

 His seat vibrated subtly for a few seconds with Chris’s hand placed loosely on the gear stick, then saw his surroundings turn into mere flashes and blurs as they got moving into the flow of traffic.

 “It’s Yakov, Vik. The old man will eventually let go of you and go bother someone else, not to mention Yuri would have no clue where you’ve flown to since—”

 “ **_Chris…_ ** ”

 The blond was dead serious now, head leaning on the shoulder rest of his seat and letting out a muttered groan. He wanted to say it was the plane’s fault, but telling lies were useless in this situation, especially if Chris was involved. The man was a lie detector unknown to most people.

 “...Vik, spit it out. Here I’ll help—in three, two, one—”

 Viktor wanted to lose himself already, enough of this mess he was feeling inside.

 “What if this is unrequited—I fucking fell in love with him while he was drunk, while he was grinding his crotch on me and everything. I mean, sure we banged and all but he was drunk! I didn’t have his consent to develop feelings for him, I didn’t have his consent to fly more than 7,000 miles to stalk him because I claimed I was in love—I don’t have any reason to be here right now—so for fuck’s sake, Chris, I don’t know what else I can do!”

 Shit, did he actually go that far and rant to him? Sometimes he had to take a moment to admire Chris’s way of taking Viktor’s bullshit.

 They both sat for a few minutes in silence while Japan passed right by them as Chris drove on, acting as if he was choosing which answer would please Viktor but decided there wasn’t any.

 “Look. I’m not in any position to give you some sappy response so you can feel high and happy only to be disappointed later.”

 He pushed on the brakes as a red light came into the view, stopping momentarily.

 “I don’t know. I have to tell you I honestly don’t know what to tell you because you’re so stubborn sometimes that you still end up getting what you want anyway. But I think you’re wrong on the unrequited part though—he didn’t want a commemorative photo with you and boarded his flight without any further contact. Think about it. He just screwed one of the world’s most acclaimed ice skater and god to ever grace this land because he drank more than a few glasses. Unless that kid has a crippling lack of dignity in him he must’ve had enough pride to avoid you completely,” he said nonchalantly without ever looking back to see what Viktor had to say.

 “What I’m saying is, you don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but there’s no use in thinking the worst or the best. This man over here took me an entire year to snatch,” Chris jutted a finger at his sleeping boyfriend.

 “And what if the latter doesn’t happen, Chris? What then—”

 “Like I said. Don’t know. This is your stop, right? Yu-topia Katsuki,” the other blond pointed out.

 The sign standing out from the entire building was enough to have Viktor come crashing out of the side door, unsure if it was adrenaline or something else screaming in him.

 “At least you’re graceful on ice,” he chuckled discreetly, stepping out of the driver’s seat to help Viktor with the luggage in the back.

 “I don’t want to hear it, Giacometti.”

 “Never told me you were going to seduce your crush in an onsen, Vik. Not a bad start for an amateur like you.”

 “Oh? And what other plan would you like me to use instead of this? This is the only backup plan I have, Chris—god help me.”

 The teasing was tossed back and forth until they managed to get the rest of the luggage out, followed by Chris heading to the seat besides the driver’s to give his lover a peck on the cheek. The onsen on the other hand, wasn’t crowded to the point of overflowing but definitely popular at this time of year. The platinum blond found himself dumbfounded by the cultural difference.

  “Good luck pursuing Yuuri Katsuki,” he heard Chris holler over the car. “Maybe if you try to strip for him he’ll fall for you much easier!”

  “Giacometti!”

  The both of them burst out in hacking fits together for the last time.

**—X—**

  Viktor Nikiforov had received his fair share of judging looks over his lifetime. Yu-topia Katsuki, however, put that fair share to shame.

  Because not only was every attendee of the onsen boring their eyes into him, but some of them were even mumbling with their hands over mouths trying to keep him from hearing. He wasn't fully naked in his defense, though. Just a towel wrapped loosely around his torso was enough in his opinion to keep the others away from prying further.

  "And how many hours are you going to be there, sir?" his cashier's voice rang out with the slightest hint of annoyance.

  "Would five be a bad answer?"

  "Sir, I've had people make out right in front of me in there and little kids accidentally shit their pants here. I don't know what a bad answer is anymore."

  "Alright then. Five hours—how much is that again?" Viktor inquired rushing to get the money out of his pack he sported before the line behind him started to clog up. There wasn't much of a rush though considering they were all busy monitoring his every movement, not bothering to move or even breathe it seemed.

  And this was why he hated the stereotype that celebrities worshiped the world's attention as if they made it their religion. He repelled like demons would.

  "1000 yen. We do money exchanges at the back but if you could do that later it would be nice," the cashier continued to frown at his existence. Either that or they'd worked here for awhile and years of customer service had gotten to them. Viktor managed to pull his hand out of his pack with 1120 wons neatly folded in his hand and offered it to them, the extra money to hopefully lighten their spirits up.

  It seemed to do the job, since as soon as they set their eyes on the extra tip they immediately began to shove the money away and lead them to the onsen. He found it quite humorous and tried his best not to giggle, letting them lead the way for this strange Russian man who'd given them 120 extra won.

  "On your right, take a left, and see that palm tree standing at the set of doors? All you have to do is take the one farthest to the right—thank you, bye, and don't hesitate to call our staff for assistance!" and bolted the opposite direction the second Viktor looked the other way. He swore he saw them reach into their pocket to feel for something, the tinkling of something metal heard in the distance.

  The onsen itself had Viktor's knees weak, the humidity too good to feel real. Anticipation from waiting to see Yuuri Katsuki somewhere in the onsen slowly fluttered away, butterflies that had been flapping around in his stomach dematerializing in an instant. His pack went flying, landing on the nearest chair and he didn't want to forsake another second and waste his hours. He set one foot into the steaming water, a slight burn tingling due to the overwhelming heat but managed it, then forced the other foot in as well. Soon enough his whole body except the top portion of his neck was submerged, away from the prying sights of the attendees and now relieved of that muscle tension he'd been feeling earlier.

  Well, six seconds later that tension returned to him like a brick to his face.

  Except that tension evolved into a thousand more butterflies settling into his stomach and flapping maniacally as soon as Viktor saw and processed the short black hair paired with familiar blue glasses. The butterflies felt like they were eating him alive on the inside out now and fuck, now he just sounded weird.

  "V-Viktor. Niki—Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov. Nikiforov Viktor," Yuuri was somewhere close to collapsing in tears and euphoria. The blue sweater he had on did nothing to hide his rapidly moving chest as he spread himself across the glass doors to support himself. "God no, you can't be real. Heck, how could you be here?"

  "Would coming here from St. Petersburg, Russia on a twelve hour flight to tell you I wanted to become your coach be a suitable answer for you?" he felt like teasing to see if the man would blush anymore. It seemed impossible—his cheeks were already flaming and looked close to painful.

  "H-h-how? How! Never mind that but why would you be here for me—"

 The guy's stubbornness was getting to be a bit too much for Viktor to handle on his part. Forgoing all the little pride he had left in himself Viktor stood up, careful to reveal all of his torso and upper hip but not his dick—he wasn't going to do that just yet. Originally, he had planned to follow Chris's advice to strip and seduce Yuuri, then hope that it would trigger Yuuri's memories of their last night of the banquet together and bam, become a couple. Somewhere he screwed up in the middle and now was lingering on the chance that it still might work out.

 "Starting today, I plan to be your ice skating coach and guide you to the best of the best," Viktor decided on the moment's whim, unaware of the chaos he'd most likely provoked in the near future to come. "Now, what do you say? The offer still stands, Yuuri~"

  He winked for extra measure, and heard Yuuri scream right after.

 —X—

  “Yuuri~ What do you say we sleep together for the night—in your room that is. My room’s a bit cold this evening and I’m sure yours is a lot warm—”

  “Oi, old man! Keep it down, will ya—the customers are already starting to pack up from your discourse with Yuuri—and what’s this with sleeping with my little brother?”

  A woman, fairly tall and smoking a crinkled cigarette stood a few feet from Yuuri’s doorway. Her eyes were lidded with a sense of absolute lividness as she stared at him.

 “Me?” Viktor asked, pointing a finger into his chest, hoping there was another hot Russian man standing nearby to come save him from this situation.

 “Yeah you, with the silver hair and everything—”

 “It’s platinum.”

_“Do I look like I give a fuck?”_

 The woman, still holding the cigarette but stalked closer to Viktor, began to bring up her hand at him. He flinched away in reflex, but emitted a small ‘ow’ when all she did was rub out her cigarette on his robe. She pulled away, moving to light another one as she eyed the small smudge on the white fabric.

 Really, he couldn’t bring himself to get angry, nor could he if he wanted to. Putting out a cigarette on a random stranger seemed gutsy—or was it just an unknown tradition here?

“Look, I just wanted to know if—”

 “If my brother is a good fuck? Well I’m afraid you’re going to disappointed ‘cause you’re not going to find out anytime soon. Now, explain to me why you’re here at 9 PM in an onsen four-thousand miles away from home trying to sleep with my brother of all people,” she tossed at him all at once. “Otherwise my next cigarette is going on your silver head of hair—”

 The platinum-blond was now a little bit more than ticked off, and a bit insulted that she’d thought the only thing Viktor wanted to do to Yuuri was fuck him. Yuuri was not a fuck and run situation—he wanted to know him beyond that. Now what was supposed to happen?—Viktor coming all the way to Hasetsu for no apparent reason was already a bad excuse to call Chris at this hour and tell him to pick him up. Only worse was that Yuuri would end up in the back of his memory, stale and empty—something Viktor thought would spark but fail to light up.

 No, Yuuri’s sister was acting for the good of her brother and all, but that needed to change whether she appreciated it or not.

 He brushed off the last specks of ash on his clothes and untied his robe, earning a panicked arched eyebrow from the woman in front of him. She stopped smoking the raised cigarette in her hand, actually throwing it away to make an attempt to stop him.

 The robe hit the floor beneath them with a soft thud, revealing Viktor’s signature skater figure and his entirely nude body.

 Before the skater could respond to the woman’s reaction however, the deafening slap of skin to skin made him stumble, causing his internal stability to crumble instantly. Viktor stumbled head first into Yuuri’s door, earning a tiny squirm from beyond the door. Her hand released, the impact from her slap showing on the callouses on her hands.

 “Name’s Mari. Strip like that again in this facility and you won’t even step foot here near Yuuri, got that?” she said coldly.

His head was still spinning, trying to focus on what he’d heard from the door before Mari’s hand slapped his shoulder again, harshly telling him to get up and accept her help.

 “You want to get near Yuuri? You’re going to have to do a better job than that, old man.”

 “I’m 27,” he said, grinning stupidly at his sudden chance to get to Yuuri again.

 “Again, do you want me to kick you out or not?”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Tell Me How to Find You

Chapter 3 - Tell Me How To Find You

  _Lilacs represent the confident, unnerving side of love, but ironically symbolize a fool in love as well._

 —X—

“Take him out to the beach nearby. Yuuri loves the beach.”

 Mari’s hands were busy mending the hole in Viktor’s thermal, despite his protests and pleas to find another shirt in his luggage. She held a steady hand up, spitting the needle out after the last thread was neatly tucked into the gray fabric.

 “I’m serious—that beach is the only place other than the rink where he can get all those thoughts of his. I don’t know about you but that kid…” she paused. “Something about that place draws him in.”

 Viktor picked up his newly mended shirt, the only shirt that Mari had approved of after going through his luggage while he was asleep. He ran his fingers over the bumps of the thread, still trying to refocus his eyes properly. 

 Gray. Gray was boring. The haze of endless gray only made focusing his eyes worse. Why had she picked this shirt out of all the others?

 Some weeks had passed, but both Viktor and Yuuri were absolutely oblivious to it. Last week’s competition involved an intense rivalry between Russian Tiger Yuri Plisetsky and Japanese Ace Yuuri Katsuki, where both had skated to Eros and Agape. Yuuri had taken home the win with Eros, much to both of their surprise.

 But the only thing Viktor could actually think about was the way Yuuri had looked during his Eros performance, with his slicked back gelled hair and hourglass figure shaped nicely by his costume. HIS costume.

 “Viktor— _Viktor_. Don’t tell me you’re thinking about my brother during that _performance_ a week ago, Viktor.”

 “Mari, this is unnecessary—are you sure Yuuri will be satisfied with…” Viktor stopped, pointing at himself to avoid talking about it any further. “This?”

 “I don’t want to hear anything about being able to _satisfy_ him or anyone else, you hear me? That’s exactly what’s wrong with how you feel—you only focus on satisfying him and completely ignore yourself and the love you have for him,” Mari said and motioned for him to put on the shirt. She stood up, slipping out the box of cigs in her pocket and put one in her mouth. “You said you were taking him on a run? Make sure you keep your eyes on him at all times—he loses motivation in minutes, so it’s worth bringing your dog along.”

 Makkachin, her brown fur still soft and puffy from the bath Viktor had given him, was lying across the floor on the other side of Mari, head on her thigh and snoring contently. Chris had brought her here to him, after complaining about his heavy schedule and inability to take care of anything else other than himself. 

 He felt strong hands push him forward towards the exit of the onsen as well as the quick click and whistle from Mari. The dog came running, eager to get out of here and go somewhere exciting it seemed.

 “Go. The beach is still nice in the morning so you have to head out now,” Mari warned again.

 Viktor hesitated for a moment, grinding his feet into the floor to stop Mari from pushing him any further. She ended up putting her entire weight into him, making him slam into the pair of doors.

 “Do I need a jacket or something to go out first?” Viktor asked, hoping to stall a little bit longer before the woman opened the doors and shoved him outside, locking them.

 “I’ve already grabbed Yuuri and told him to weight by the base of the stairs of Hasetsu Castle. Go straight and take two lefts—you’ll be fine, got it?”

 She turned away and left him there.

 “Fu..Frick,” he stopped himself from cursing. “She said Yuuri was waiting near Hasetsu Castle? Does she want me to die or something—I’ve only been here for three days!”

 He whipped out his phone, typing in the letters for Hasetsu Castle into the search engine only to realize the address for it was in kanji. Mari had taught him some the day prior, but otherwise he didn’t know shit how to read this much. English was hard enough already—how the hell was he supposed to hold a simple conversation with his crush in Japanese?

 The blond slipped the phone back into his pocket, groaning in absolute agony and made his way to the outside of the onsen. He licked his finger and held it to the sky, sighing when he put it back down. The winds were going to be harsh today.

 “Better to start early and find Yuuri before he starts thinking his coach is a douche then, huh?”

 As stupid as he knew the idea was, he couldn’t help but start jogging with his hands raised slightly in the air, yelling out his determination to whoever cared enough to hear.

 “Tell me where to find you— _Tell me where to find you, Yuuri!”_

 He swore he heard a yelp somewhere.

 —X—

 Yuuri swore he heard someone yell his name somewhere, but quickly dismissed it.

 In reality, he had absolutely no idea what he was here for, other than 1) Mari had told him it was important, and 2) An old guy with silver hair was coming for him.

 Both sounded terrifying and interesting at the same time.

 He slowly went back to picking at the shoelaces to which he’d pulled apart and tied together a thousand times already. Forty-five minutes surely wasn’t that bad, right? Who was this person Mari had told him was important anyway? She’d seemed almost panicked when she rushed to tell him the news.

 Yuuri was getting suspicious, as always when his sister planned something. Especially Mari.

 The large numbers in bold read out across his phone screen as he took it out and pressed the on button.

 7:50.

 He told himself that after eight had passed, he would start making his way back home. 

 7:58. No sign of an old guy with silver hair yet. What joke had Mari gotten him into now? Jokes were nice and all but how shitty did someone have to be to make them go through this?

 Yuuri took apart his shoelaces for the last time, doing it extra slowly in hopes that the person would come at that moment and see that he was busy and walk away. He had no plans to meet up with this “guy” Mari wanted him to see.

 7:59.

 Mari’s contact number showed up on his screen, and he hesitated to press it before reminding himself that it was her that got him into this situation. 

 8:01.

 If only time was slower.

 The skater got up and dusted the dirt off his pants cautiously, still foolishly hoping that the guy would hurry up and make his way here. Cars had already started to fill the streets, and cars meant people which meant crowds that Yuuri hated to be in.

  _Ten more seconds._

  _You’ll regret it._

  _Ten. Ten won’t hurt._

 8:02

  _That was more than a second you know._

  _But worth it._

 Sweaty, horrendous wisps of hair flung in his face as Viktor collapsed into his chest, panting like a marathoner and face burning red. Drool dribbled down onto Yuuri’s hand, to which Viktor hurriedly wiped off and tore himself apart from him. His dog, standing in full glory with their owner suffering beside them, barked as if to introduce the both of them.

 Despite that, Viktor smiled, relieved that he didn’t have to do anymore running for Yuuri.

 “Yuuri Katsuki, or am I wrong? We’re headed to the beach today—Makkachin here is going to make sure you don’t stop until you get there.”

 “Viktor! You—the dog—what—”

 Makkachin bolted away from the two of them, towards the sandy area and bustling ocean in the distance ahead. Their ears flapped behind their head like sails.

 “You might want to catch up, Yuuri. Makkachin tends to run very fast,” Viktor chuckled as Yuuri sprinted right behind the dog.

 —X—

 Viktor realized a lot of things in the short time that he’d caught up with Yuuri.

 Many wonderful, odd, lovely things.

 First was that Yuuri was insanely exceptional at fooling around with Makkachin, more so than Viktor ever was. Both of them were half soaking from being in the waves, with Yuuri both laughing and coughing like the excitement in him couldn’t contain itself in his own body. The jealousy nearly stung him, and Viktor laughed at himself.

 Second, Yuuri looked odd without his glasses.

 By odd, he meant attractive and Viktor was now completely gay for Yuuri.

 “Viktor! Makkachin can swim, right? She’s practically begging me to get into the water and it wouldn’t exactly be nice if she ended up drowning because of me so would it be alright if we—”

 “Yeah.”

 “I’m serious—I don’t know about you but the cost of murdering a dog here is pretty severe to what I’ve heard—”

 “Sure.”

 Yuuri, far too exasperated with the dazed Russian man, patted off the sand stuck to his joggers and headed to the far end of the beach, where Viktor’s dog was waiting. 

 “Ah, I just wanted to ask you something first...Yuuri,” Viktor said.

 He was pretty sure death awaited him the first time Viktor got a real look at Yuuri’s smile.

 White, shiny teeth with celebrity written all over it. Tipped off with a dimple on his left cheek that nearly made him hit his head on the nearby rocks right then and there.

 This was going to be the death of him.

 Yuuri turned away slightly and huffed in impatience, gnawing the inside of his cheek while waiting for a respond. Even his small pout was perfect.

 “Viktor, beg my pardon but I’m sure Mari didn’t plan this whole meeting to be this long. Don’t you have other stuff to do—”

 His words were cut off by the sudden collision of Viktor’s lips against his, and tasted the sweat near his mouth from all the running he’d done to get here—sweat mixed in with the strong sudden burst of peppermint. Viktor hadn’t kissed him that hard, but it had been hard enough to push Yuuri back a bit near the waves.

 He really hadn’t expected for Mari’s plan to end like this.

 In fact, Yuuri had no idea what to do with himself now. He kissed a celebrity—not only that but an iconic legend that had thousands—who was he kidding?—millions of fans internationally who would slit their throats just to look at him. They would throw themselves into a burning fire, and yet here was Yuuri, someone who couldn’t even snatch silver in the Grand Prix and was now kissing Viktor Nikiforov.

 Was there something wrong with him? What the hell had he done to deserve him? 

 Exactly. He had done exactly nothing.

 “Yuuri,” Viktor said, his voice still breathy from the kiss. He made a move for Yuuri’s hand, failing to notice the reluctance Yuuri had to let him do so. “Was that alright? I hope the kiss wasn’t too much to handle out of nowhere—”

 “What am I to you?”

 “What?” Viktor asked, relieved that the answer hadn’t been no but was still on edge with the tone Yuuri was now using.

 “I said, what am I to you?”

 The man stepped closer, his head grazing the lower half of Viktor’s forehead. He waited, but to his surprise the blond tipped his head upwards to look at him better, further increasing the intimacy between them.

 “What do you want me to be to you?” he said.

 No answer.

 “A father figure? Brother? Friend?” Viktor tried, but received only disgruntled ‘nos’.

 “Fine. A boyfriend? I don’t know about that, but I can certainly try,” Viktor said again, humored at his own answer but worried about what Yuuri had to say.

 Yuuri got up quickly, stumbling on his way as he backed away hurriedly with his hands in front of him, acting as a blockade. His face was tinted pink, but Viktor wasn’t enough of an idiot to believe it was from the cold.

 “No, no, no, no, no, _no!_ Y-you’re fine just the way you are, Viktor—I don’t want you to be disappointed about me so...can we keep it at this?”

 “Yuuri, I never said I was disappointed in you—”

 “Please. Can we please?” the skater pleaded.

 Of course. Who was he to decide his own fate? 

 “You’re right—it was...silly that I thought I could be something like that to you. This is fine—everything is fine just the way they are,” the taller of them said. He tried his best not to let the disappointment seep into his apology and succeeded, much to the other skater’s obliviousness.

 “Yes, I—”

 The quiet buzz of a jingle came up, interrupting their conversation and taking Yuuri’s attention away from Viktor. He picked up and answered, contorting his face in various ways before settling on a neutral expression. 

 “Mari? We’re talking about this sooner or later. I need to know everything.”

 Yuuri finally shut it off and turned his eyes on Viktor, who was standing almost several feet away.

 “I’ve got...stuff at home that need some settling. You don’t mind, right? I know today’s workout wasn’t as you probably expected, but at least we got running in—”

 “Don’t let me hold you back, Yuuri. Just go do your thing.”

 “Viktor—”

 “ **Yuuri.** I can handle this on my own. You don’t need to make anything up to me, just head home,” he said coldly.

 Makkachin started whimpering the moment Yuuri walked away, trying to chase after him, but was held back by the leash Viktor had put on him. She turned around to growl at him, silently begging him to go after the skater.

 “I won’t make a fool out of myself, Makka. This isn’t important now,” Viktor lied. The whimper in Makkachin’s bark told him that she knew.

 He picked up the leash and sighed. He still hadn’t bothered to shower in three days, too hung up on Yuuri to focus. At least now he knew what was to come.

 “Yuuri doesn’t need me now, and I don’t think he will ever,” he breathed, and made his way back to the onsen.


End file.
